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PAL'LET, n., a painter's color-board | ART'I-SAN (art'e-zan), n

for the hand.

CAN'VAS, n., a coarse cloth.

Cos'TUME, n., style of dress.

DE-TER', v. t., to stop by fear.
A-DO' (a-doo'), n., trouble; stir.
MA-TURE', a., ripe; full-grown.

skilled in any art. MINIA-TURE (min'e-tür), likeness or picture. THOR'OUGH-LY (thur'ro-ly

completeness; fully. OB-LIT'ER-ATE, v. t., to blo

Do not say costoom, picter, dook, &c. Heed the y sound of long

1. THERE is a society in London known as t ety of Arts. Its object is the encouragement in the various departments of art. Prizes are a by the society, sometimes to painters for th tures, and sometimes to humble artisans for i ments in weaving, or in the manufacture of lace, or artificial flowers.

2. More than half a century ago, a little named William Ross, not twelve years of age, w ing with his mother about an exhibition of pa at the society's rooms. William was very f paintings, and could himself draw and color v markable skill. "Look you, William," said his n "I saw some paintings in the exhibition which seem to me half as good as some of yours."

3. "Do you really think so, mother?" asked "I am sure of it," she replied. "I saw painti ferior, both in color and drawing, to some t hanging in your little chamber." little chamber." William kne his mother was no flatterer, and he said, "I mind to ask permission to hang one or two paintings on the walls, at the next exhibiti "Why not try for one of the prizes?" ask mother.

4. "O! mother dear, do you think I should

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venture, nothing have," said his mother. "You can but try."—"And I will try, mother dear," said William. “I have a historical subject in my head, out of which I think I can make a picture."-"What is it, William?"

5. "The death of Wat Tyler. You have heard of him? He led a mob in the time of Richard the Second. Having behaved insolently before the king, at Smithfield, Tyler was struck down by Walworth, Mayor of London, and then killed by the king's at tendants."

6. "It is a bold subject, William; but I will say nothing to deter you from trying it."-"If I fail, mother, where will be the harm? I can try again.". "To be sure you can, William. So we will not be disappointed should you not succeed in winning the silver pallet offered by the society for the best historical painting."

7. Without more ado, little William went to work. He first acquainted himself with the various costumes of the year 1381. He learnt how the king and the noblemen used to dress, and what sort of clothes were worn by the poor people and laborers, to which class Wat Tyler belonged. He also learnt what sort of weapons were carried in those days.

8. After having given some time to the study of these things, he acquainted himself thoroughly with the historical incidents attending the death of the bold rioter. He grouped, in imagination, the persons who were present at the scene, the king and his attendants, Walworth, the mayor, Wat Tyler himself, and, in the background, some of his ruffianly companions.

9. The difficulty now was to select that period of the action best fitted for a picture, and to group the figures in attitudes the most natural and expressive. Many times did little William make a sketch of the

scene on paper, and then obliterate it, dissat his work. At times he almost despaired plishing any thing that should do justice t ception in his mind. But, after many trials failures, he completed a sketch which he d transfer to canvas.

10. He now labored diligently at his task, every opportunity to improve himself in a k of colors and their effects. At length the handing in his picture arrived. He then ha a month before there was any decision as to i On the day appointed for the announcemen decision many persons of, distinction were pr cluding ladies. The meeting was presided the Duke of Norfolk.

11. William's mother was present, of cour sat waiting the result, with a beating heart. proud mother she was when, after the transa some uninteresting business, it was announ the prize of a silver pallet, for the best histo ture, was awarded to the painter of the piece "The Death of Wat Tyler"! Poor Mrs. Ro not refrain from weeping, she was so very gla

12. When it was found by the audience t William Ross was the successful artist, their broke forth with enthusiasm. To see such a low gain a prize over competitors of mature a a novelty and a surprise. William was su with his picture to the duke's chair, and ther ceived such counsel and encouragement as great service to him in his future career. E ward became Sir William Ross, miniature pa Queen Victoria; having risen to fortune and carrying out, with determination and persev

QUARREL OF THE AUTHORS.

111

XL.- QUARREL OF THE AUTHORS.

DICTION, n., language; style.

SONʼNET, n., a poem of fourteen lines.
PED'ANT, n., one who makes a vain
parade of his knowledge.
FOOLS'CAP, n., a kind of writing pa-
per.

BALLAD, n., a short narrative song. PLAʼGI-A-RIST (-je), n., one who passes off another's writings as his own. METER OF ME'TRE, n., measure as applied to verse.

MAIN-TAIN', v. t., to uphold.

Do not say Latn for Lat'in; statoo for stat'ue. Pronounce often, öƒ'n.

Enter BAVIUS and MEVIUS, meeting.

Bavius. Sir, I'm proud to have met you. Long have I known

Your productions, and often I've wished them my own. Your verses have beauties in none other found.

Mevius. In yours all the graces of diction abound.
Ba. Your phrases are neat, your style charmingly light.
Me. We find the pathetic in all that you write.
Ba. Your odes, how delightful! how tender and true!
Who now will compare Pope or Dryden with you?
Me. Your songs have a noble and elegant vein,
That even old Horace could never attain.

Ba. Can any thing equal your love-ditties rare ?
Me. Can aught with your wonderful sonnets compare?
Ba. If the public could estimate half of your worth
Me. If merit now met its due honors on earth

Ba. You'd roll through the streets in a carriage of gold. Me. Every square in the city your statue would hold. Hem! this ballad of mine your opinion upon it.

I should like to

-

Ba. Pray, sir, have you met with a sonnet On the flag of our country?

Me. A sonnet? Just so.

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'T was read at a party, a few nights ago. Ba. Do you know who's the author?

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Me. No matter for that; it's as bad as can be.

And if you had but seen it, sir, you'd think so t

Ba. Dear sir, I am sorry to differ from you; But I hold that its merit must every one strike. Me. May the Muses preserve me from making Ba. I maintain that a better the world can no For I am the author-yes, I, you must know. Me. You?

Ba. I.

Me. Well, I wonder how that came to pass. Ba. I had the bad luck not to please you, alas Me. Perhaps there was something distracted Or else the man spoiled it, so badly he read. But here is my ballad, concerning which I

Ba. The days of the ballad methinks are gone 'Tis very old-fashioned, and out of date quite. Me. Yet, even now, many in ballads delight. Ba. No matter; I think them decidedly flat. Me. You think them! Perhaps they 're no w for that.

Ba. For pedants, indeed, they have charms

measure.

Me. And yet we perceive they afford you no pl Ba. You give others qualities found but in you Me. You call others names that are justly your Go, blotter of foolscap! contemptible creature! Ba. Go, scribbler of sonnets, and butcher of me Me. Go, impudent plagiarist! Pedant, get out Ba Go, rascal! Be careful! mind what you 're Me. Go, go! strip your writings of each b

plume;

Let the Greeks and the Latins their beauties resum
Ba Go, you, and ask pardon of Venus and Bac
For your lame imitations of jolly old Flaccus.*
Me. Remember your book's insignificant sale.
Ba. Remember your bookseller driven to jail.

*Quintus Horatius Flaccus or Horace a famous Roman noot how

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